At this moment the Texan heard something.  
The noise could not have been any more distinct than that which had the Comanche of his just in time to save himself. It was so faint, indeed, that it was not until he had listened a few seconds longer that he could decide the precise point whence it came.
 
It was at the same end of the cabin, but on the corner opposite to that where he had detected the . The captain, therefore, was forced to peep over the edge of the peak, in order to hold his gaze on the point. This was easy enough, and, as he stealthily peered through the gloom, he levelled his weapon, in whose use he was as as that of the Winchester.
 
 
He had in his mind the precise point where the head of the Indian would rise to view, and he was resolved not to throw away his chance this time. The moment he could make sure of his target, he would perforate it with several bullets, in order to prevent any possible mistake.
 
But, though the sound was repeated, the object itself failed to materialize. It was there, but he could not see it clearly enough to risk a shot.
 
Strange that, with all the Texan’s experience, this fact did not lead him to suspect the real cause of the warrior’s continued absence!
 
But at the moment he began speculating, he became convinced that his enemy was moving. He was there and had betrayed himself.
 
Everyone knows the extreme difficulty of seeing an object distinctly when the light is poor, and we concentrate our gaze upon it. That which is clear at first grows dim and perhaps vanishes altogether from sight.
 
Something of the kind is noticeable when we try to count the seven stars of the Pleiades. It is easy enough to fix upon six, but if we gaze too intently, the seventh modestly withdraws from view.
 
This was the case for a minute or two with Captain Shirril. The first glance at the suspicious point showed him the outlines of a head, but while gazing at it, he began to doubt whether it was there at all. Aware of the named, he turned his eyes toward a spot several feet removed, and then glanced back to the original point.
 
The Comanche was there!
 
The Texan sighted his pistol as best he could in the obscurity, but, while doing so with all care, the target began to grow dim, until he was afraid that, if he pressed the trigger, a miss would result, and surely he could not afford that.
 
“I’ll wait,” was his decision; “he can’t know that I’m on the watch, and there will be more of him in sight before long.”
 
It was indeed that the sagacious captain still failed to suspect the object of this strange .
 
There came the moment when there was no cause for longer delay. The shoulders were in sight, and the skilful marksman was certain of bringing the warrior down with his first bullet.
 
But at the moment of firing, he was restrained by a strange suspicion, or rather a strange occurrence.
 
The head of the Comanche made an to one side––then straightened up, still more in the other direction, and then became upright again.
 
This was not only extraordinary, but it was something which a genuine Indian would never do, whether he belonged to the Comanche or some other tribe.
 
“Ah, ha––that’s your game, is it?” muttered the Texan, on to the truth.
 
The cunning red men were making use of a instead of one of their own number, and, as the statement may seem, this dummy was the very warrior that had fallen by the shot of Oscar Gleeson.
 
Instead of trusting the success of their s............